


Prince in the Streets, Trickster in the Sheets

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: (he doesn't), Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Snarky Loki, There is implied sex, Thor isn't happy, and Thor thinks he has the situation under control, basically Loki is driving Thor up the wall, it's not smut though, no feels or angst here, no you don't understand there is so much snark, this is purely humorous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki finds a way to make his sexual frustration known to Thor -- namely, raking his nails across his back. Unfortunately, that leaves marks, which does not please Thor at all.</p><p>Even more unfortunately for Thor, it very much pleases Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince in the Streets, Trickster in the Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is a gift for a friend :) I've be orphaning it soon since my parents _cannot_ find this (not that there's much of a chance, but I have to be on the safe side...). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

“HARDER, YOU DULLARD, _HARDER!”_

“ARGH—- _LOKI—-“_

The bed shook violently with Thor’s wild and frenzied movement as thunder boomed in the sky and Loki howled in mixed pleasure and fury.

“What is this—- _aaahhhhh_ —- the mighty Thor—- unable to even—-“

Thor growled and increased the strength of his thrusts; Loki huffed and rolled his eyes, knuckles white in their grip on the sheets. Then a wicked light gleamed in his eyes and, with less coordination than he would have liked, Loki buried his fingers in the shining muscles of Thor’s rippling back and _scratched_ his frustration into the sweaty skin, drawing as much pleasure from Thor’s cry of pain as from as from his wonderfully pounding—-

“LOKI, YOU—-“

“Shut up and _MOVE!”_

Thor obliged.

Loki yowled and pressed his nails even deeper. Oh, this was going to be a _fun_ night.

* * *

Thor groaned in bone-deep satisfaction as he pulled away from the pale, long-limbed, and wrecked with pleasure body underneath him. _Norns,_ that had been—-

Stinging, burning pain flared in his shoulders and back and Thor cried out through clenched teeth, stumbling to his feet and staggering to the bathroom. He twisted himself around before the mirror, wondering what in the Nine Realms could have happened to his back.

Oh, of course. The sensation of Loki tearing his wickedly sharp nails across his skin flashed across Thor’s groggy mind, and he groaned.

“Loki…”

But the god of mischief was asleep, slumped across the pillows, having used magic to clean but not clothe himself. Scowling, Thor washed quickly, biting back another cry when the water stung like fire on his shoulders, and made his way back to the bed. Loki, as usual, had sprawled out across the entire bed (Thor’s eyes greedily traced the long, supple legs before he remembered that he was _angry_ and promptly turned his gaze away from the oh-so-tempting sight). As was also usual, Thor shoved Loki aside and flopped down beside him. He would have to make Loki heal his shoulders in the morning —- there was a sparring session tomorrow that Thor would rather not miss, and such things were usually conducted without shirts or tunics (but _not_ without pants, as had been made clear to Fandral after one rather unfortunate incident). Yes, Loki would have to heal it in the morning. He wouldn’t refuse —- not under the circumstances.

Within moments, Thor’s breathing evened to a soft, deep rhythm, and he too was asleep.

* * *

“Loki, you cannot be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.” Loki dropped another grape into his mouth, half-lidded gaze watching unabashedly as Thor dressed. “You’ll have to see the healers.”

“But you can heal it!”

 _“Can._ Whether I will… that is another matter.”

“Loki!”

“Yes? I’m right here; there’s really no need to shout.”

“Are you truly so stubborn? I have a sparring session in an hour! You know how these things go, Loki —- one always fights bare-chested.”

“Of course, to ensure the greatest chance of damaging a few vital organs.”

“Loki!” Thor snapped. Loki didn’t even flinch. “As I said, I will have to remove my shirt, and I would rather not have the—- ah—- _marks_ seen.”

“You wish to keep your inadequacy secret from Asgard?”

“THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEAN AND YOU KNOW IT!” Thor cried, pounding his fist on the table like a whining child. “You twist everything I say!”

“I twist your hair, too, but even that doesn’t seem to help when you prove _unsatisfactory.”_

Thor lunged at the smug god, only to crash unceremoniously into the chair as Loki leapt up to avoid him. “My dear, you are only proving yet again that your instincts are _lacking._ Perhaps I should find a partner more suited to m—-“ Loki was silenced abruptly when Thor tackled him down onto a bed, a hand over his mouth.

“Much better,” Thor growled, moving to cover Loki’s body with his own (and making his own arousal quite apparent).

But Loki only grinned behind his fingers, and, with a muffled laugh, he vanished.

“CURSE YOU!” Thor shrieked, looking wildly around in the hope that Loki might still be in their chambers. He was not, of course, and Thor was left in the unpleasant position of revealing his rather telling injuries first to the healers or to his friends in the sparring ring.

Eventually, he went to the healer.

There was nothing else for it.

Eir, the healer in charge of the ward, was obviously unconvinced by Thor’s story.

“It was a bilgesnipe!” he repeated, gesturing vaguely in an attempt to demonstrate the size of the fictitious beast. “It knocked me to the ground, and I fell into a thorned bush…”

“Hmm,” Eir said noncommittally, eyebrows climbing up her forehead as she examined his shoulders. “A bilgesnipe and a thorned bush, you say.”

“Yes.”

“If you would tell me the truth, I might be better able to heal you.”

“It is the truth!”

“You have not spent enough time with Loki, my king; you could not lie to fool a child. Although—- perhaps this,” her eyes moved back to his shoulders, “is the result of spending _too_ much time with him?”

Thor realized a moment too late what she was implying. “No! I am not—- we are not—- he isn’t—-“

“Dear, the whole palace knows,” Eir said with a chuckle. “It’s not hard to see, from the way the two of you look at each other.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Eir uncorked a bottle, unleashing a rather foul odor. Ignoring Thor’s grimace, she proceeded to rub the substance onto the inflamed cuts. Thor gasped and grit his teeth, but allowed her to continue as the wounds healed and closed under her touch.

“Thank you,” Thor muttered, sliding off the bed rather too quickly and pulling his shirt over his head.

“Is there perhaps anything Loki might need attending to—-“

“No!” Thor yelled, reddening. Realizing his mistake, he bid Eir a hasty goodbye (and tried to ignore her suppressed giggle), then stormed from the healing ward.

* * *

Loki, the imp, seemed to take the entire incident as a challenge.

Thor rolled out of bed, groggy and sated after a _glorious_ night (where _did_ Loki learn how to do all of these things?) and staggered unglamorously into the bathroom, only to roar in sudden fury at the sight of three flaming and very visible bite marks on his neck.

_“LOKI!”_

There was a ruffling of sheets and a prolonged yawn. “Yes, my dear?”

“Heal me this instant!”

“Heal what…?”

Thor thundered back into the bedroom, eyes ablaze. “If you do not erase these hideous marks, I will lay Mjolnir on your chest for a week!”

“Oh, what fun that would be…” Loki purred, lips pulling into a grin as some obviously pleasurable thoughts regarding Thor’s threat. “I absolutely refuse to heal you.”

Thor growled and glanced at Mjolnir. He was of half a mind to follow through on his threat, but he know it would only be even more of a game for the god of mischief (and by no means a punishment).

“I dare you to do it.”

“I may not have your wits, but I am not an idiot.” Thor thought for a moment, then smiled wickedly. “Fine. I will _deny_ you my hammer until you have healed these marks.”

“You know I have little fondness for Mjolnir.”

“And you know it is not Mjolnir I speak of.”

Loki’s eyes glinted. “Well played. Well played, indeed.” He rose from the bed, approaching Thor with a walk that was far too sensuous. He leaned in, wrapping his fingers around Thor’s biceps and pressing his lips to the thunder god’s neck.

Thor was surprised at the healing method, but remained still as Loki whispered a few words against his skin (and tried to ignore how certain parts of his body were becoming rather excited).

Then he yelped in pain as Loki’s teeth sank into his neck, undoubtedly creating another mark, and the god of mischief vanished in a puff of smoke.

 _“LOKI, YOU THRICE-CURSED TRICKSTER!”_ Thor roared, running to the mirror and discovering that, in addition to the fact that he was sporting a new mark, the others were just as vibrant and glaring as before.

And he had a lunch to attend with the representatives from Alfheim in half an hour.

Growling in unison with the ominous rumbling outside, Thor strode from his chambers to the healing ward.

Again.

* * *

These marks were far, far harder to explain away. Thor felt utterly helpless as he watched the skepticism on Eir’s face turn into downright amusement. He hadn’t had a chance, really.

“A cat, you say.”

“Yes, I was attacked. By a cat. It bit my neck.”

“Several times, I see. And you were unable to subdue it?”

“Obviously.” Thor obligingly turned his head so Eir could see the bruises more clearly, praying she would at least pretend his story wasn’t as thin as paper.

“Well, then. I don’t suppose Prince Loki would have had anything to do with this… cat?”

Thor stiffened. “Nothing at all.”

“I see.”

She _did_ see, and that was the problem. Thor resolved that this would end tonight. He’d had enough of Loki’s mischief.

——-

“Thor…” Loki groaned, tilting his head back as he and Thor plunged into another deep kiss. There were no words for several minutes; only noises of the sort which had long ago alerted the servants to exactly what kind of activities took place between the two gods in Thor’s chambers. Thor growled, pressing Loki down against the bed, claiming his mouth with commanding force.

Then, quick as lightning, Thor unhooked Mjolnir from his belt and set it atop Loki’s chest, pinning to the center of the bed. Flushed and breathless, Loki spluttered in incoherent surprise and fury.

“What—- Thor, what is this—-“

“This,” Thor said, standing up and buttoning his shirt, “is the consequence of mischief. I hope you enjoy the night, _my dear.”_

Loki, who had until now looked rather aroused in spite of his annoyance, stared at Thor in horror. “You’re not—- you’re not going to just _leave_ me here, you dolt—-“

“Oh, yes I am. Don’t worry, it’ll only be until sunrise. I’ll be sleeping in the guest chambers; I’ll come and release you when I wake.”

“But—- but—-“

Thor strode out of the room and shut the door, ignoring Loki’s protests. He was grinning madly at the thought of Loki trapped on the bed, still fully clothed and extremely unsatisfied. This ought to tame at least some of Loki’s wiliness, Thor thought smugly, entering the guest chambers and changing into his nightclothes before sprawling out over the impressively luxurious bed. He laughed aloud, thinking with mirth of just how angry Loki must be.

Perhaps, if he had been aware of what Loki was actually doing at that moment, Thor might not have slept quite so soundly.

* * *

It was as though he had worked a miracle. Loki was sufficiently chastened when Thor obligingly removed Mjolnir just after sunrise; the trickster pointedly shut himself in the bathroom for over an hour, ignoring Thor’s attempts to communicate with him through the magically barricaded door. When Loki finally emerged, it was to a giddily grinning god of thunder.

“Did you enjoy the night?”

“Shut up.”

“I slept very well, myself. One always finds such… freedom in sleep.”

“Thor, one more word and I will turn you into a dung beetle and banish you to Muslpelheim.”

“You cannot banish me; I an king.”

“Are you willing to bet on that?”

Thor laughed. “I suppose not. But I trust you have learned your lesson.”

Loki huffed as he pulled on his tunic and trousers. “Learned? Oh yes, I suppose I have.”

“You—-“ Thor paused, narrowing his eyes. It was utterly unlike Loki to give in or admit any kind of defeat. Not that he hadn’t expected a night under Mjolnir to have an effect, but… Well, Thor had known Loki long enough to suspect any kind of compliance as trickery.

“What? Suspicious of me already?”

“I am always suspicious of you.”

“Oh, my dear Thor.” Loki grinned, coming to stand before Thor and tracing a long, slender finger down his chest. “If that were true, you would not be grinning so.” With that, Loki magicked his boots onto his feet and left the room, having effectively drained away the satisfaction Thor had felt minutes ago.

Thor glanced around, as if expecting to find one of his weapons missing or his favorite armor painted green. Seeing nothing out of order, he too left, mind working furiously to unearth whatever plot Loki had constructed now.

* * *

Fandral sighed in pleasure as he descended into the steaming pool, closing his eyes and extending his arms. Hogun sat across from him, stony-faced as usual (though he did appear to be deriving small amount of enjoyment from the hot bath). Thor and Volstagg were still removing their armor and arguing over the results of their training that afternoon.

“I nearly beat you this time!” Volstagg exclaimed, grinning. He removed one of his vambraces and set it on the bench. “I would have had you, if I had not tripped at the last second.”

“You mean if your stomach had not caused you to lose your balance,” Fandral quipped.

“Aye,” Thor added, pulling off his undershirt. “You would have done excellently, if not for the impediment of your girth.”

“I am well-rounded, that is all,” Volstagg replied, at which both Thor and Fandral laughed.

 _“Very_ well-rounded,” Fandral said. “Indeed, any more roundness and I fear you will not be able to fight with us at all!”

“And who would you have to show you the proper way to fight then?” Volstagg asked.

Thor pulled down his trousers. He was completely naked now; he and his friends always bathed without clothing, something that seemed to appall his Midgardian companions. Thor, for his part, saw no reason for such shy modesty.

As it turned out, that ‘shy modesty’ had its merits.

It was when Thor turned around to fold his cape and place it upon the bench that the laughter broke out.

“Norns above, Thor!” Fandral cried, barely controlling himself. “Oh, gods…”

Thor whipped around, staring in utter shock. “What? What is it?”

“Y-Your arse,” Volstagg chocked, doubled over and red in the face.

 _Loki, what have you done,_ Thor fumed internally as he strode over to the mirror and twisted around to try and see what—-

Thick red letters, right across his buttocks.

_“I do what I want.”_

Thor knew there was no explaining his way out of this one.

“All right, Volstagg, you owe me,” Fandral said.

Volstagg huffed. “I’ll pay you later.”

Thor looked between the two of them, confused and momentarily distracted from the humiliating message spread across his bottom.

“Volstagg and I made a bet on your… relations with Loki. As you see, I was correct. I expect my winnings by this evening, friend. There are a few ladies I have a mind to impress.”

Thor glowered.

“Come now,” Fandral laughed, “we all suspected. It was going to come out eventually. And for my part, I congratulate you. Loki is someone I would not mind…” his voice trailed off, but his eyes were glinting in a manner uncomfortably similar to Loki’s.

Volstagg scoffed. “Yes, Fandral, we are all well aware. But what prompted this, Thor?” he asked, indicating the flagrant letters imprinted on his backside. “Lovers’ quarrel? Not your first, I daresay.”

“No, not our first,” Thor growled. “But it will be our last.”

At this, the other three burst out laughing, their mirth echoing in the chamber even when Thor stormed out (grabbing a towel to cover himself) and slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

Loki was as amused as Thor’s friends had been when the god of thunder burst into their chambers, face a perfect picture of fury.

“LOKI!”

“Right here, my dear.”

Thor clenched his fists and ran to tackle the smirking god, only to crash into the wall as it turned out to be an illusion. He heard a chuckle from the opposite corner.

“Are you ever _not_ going to fall for that?”

_“LOKI!”_

“I heard you the first time; there’s no need to shout,” Loki drawled as Thor charged at him yet again only to discover that this, too, was an illusion.

Panting and smoldering with anger, Thor stood in the center of the room, ready to leap the moment Loki (the real one) revealed himself.

“Oh, what a bore you are,” Loki said lazily, perched atop the wardrobe. Thor glared, seething, but didn’t run for him just yet. Loki’s eyes twinkled. “Learning, I see. Now, shall we talk this over or would you like to try and tackle me again?”

“I would like you to explain your little _message.”_

“Message? What message?”

“Do not pretend, you imp.”

Loki grinned even wider. “Oh, _that._ I did think you might be rather incensed, but you did leave me under your stupid hammer —- and not the one I like —- for the entire night, so I felt a little revenge was due.”

“It was uncalled for!”

“So was last night, but I digress.” Loki straightened, stretching out his long limbs like a cat. “Let us negotiate. I will erase my little greeting, and you will desist in your childish rage.”

“I am not childish!”

“And I am not a prankster. Look, Thor, I’ll put it this way —- keep trying to kill me, and you might find that Mjolnir has a hard time _coming,_ if you take my meaning.”

Thor’s face whitened with rage. “You wouldn’t dare—-“

“Oh, but I would. Trust me, Thor, it would be my _pleasure.”_

There was a long silence, in which Thor’s mind worked furiously and Loki continued to resemble a very smug and relaxed feline, practically purring from his seat as he enjoyed Thor’s torment.

Finally, with a great exhale, Thor unclenched his hands. “Fine. I will not… attack you. And you—- you will observe proper _decorum_ in the future.”

“If you say so.”

“Do I have your word?”

“Certainly.”

Thor raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“Come now, Thor, you know better than to make me promise things. There are only two outcomes; either I ignore it completely or twist your words until you beg me to take back my vow.”

“You are insufferable.”

“Thank you.” Loki swung down —- the impact of his feet on the floor finally convincing Thor that this was _actually_ Loki. The trickster walked slyly over, regarding the god of thunder from behind lowered lashes. “Now…” he ran his hand down Thor’s chest, and the god shuddered involuntarily. “I am feeling rather… generous. I can make it all up to you, if you like.”

Thor swallowed (his throat was quite dry). He tried to reply, but his voice was lost somewhere when Loki’s hand descended _lower_ and it was suddenly very difficult to think coherently.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Loki murmured. “Now _on the bed.”_

Thor didn’t have to be told twice.


End file.
